


Jack + Identity Crisis + Murdoc

by badwolfrun



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Macgyver AU, Macgyver/CSI Crossover, Memory Loss, Mistaken Identity, Nick Stokes Whump, Torture, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/badwolfrun
Summary: "I don't know, me? I'm method. When I go undercover, I become that person."After having suffered a serious head injury, a brainwashed Jack Dalton assumes the life of CSI Nick Stokes, both for his protection and Nick’s. Murdoc gets wind of this and takes a trip down to Vegas to “play” with Jack in an attempt to lure Macgyver out of hiding. Meanwhile, the real Nick Stokes is abducted and tortured by people who think he's Jack Dalton.





	Jack + Identity Crisis + Murdoc

_ Nick Stokes loosened his tie as he walked through the parking garage of the San Diego Crime Lab. A long day of phone calls, paperwork, and having to resist the urge to just glove up and go investigate crime scenes instead of talking to the press made his feet drag on the ground as he opened the trunk to his car. _

_ “Nick Stokes?” a voice called behind him. A female one, maybe another reporter? _

_ “Listen, ma’am, I have no further comments on the matter,” Nick began to say, turning to face the woman but he quickly found that she wasn’t alone, and wasn’t unarmed. He tried to memorize as many details about the pair as he could, the female’s hair was tied up in a ponytail, she was wearing a Iron Maiden sleeveless shirt, a gas mask covering her face. She was armed with a can of spray, but it wasn't pepper spray. The man next to her was dark-skinned, also wearing a gas mask, holding a black piece of fabric in one hand and zipties in the other.  _

_ He immediately reached for his gun secured to his waist holster, but suddenly his vision was clouded and the whole world fell dark.  _

_ “He really does look like him,” the woman says, her voice almost...sad? _

_ “Yeah, it’s kind of creepy. And we thought having one Jack running around was bad enough,” the man replied. _

_ Jack? Who’s Jack? _

\-------------------------------------------------

Visions of a never-ending desert swirl in front of him, explosions causing miniature sandstorms to spike up all over the landscape. The air is filled with sand and smoke, which constricts his breathing. Ringing and screaming in his eardrums, so loud, he wonders how he’s still able to hear anything. He’s surrounded by people, some of them close to him, and some of them complete strangers, and yet, he has never felt so alone. 

Alone...he was alone when that stupid plan he agreed to out of desperation went up in the same smoke that now fills his lungs. The right side of his head throbs, stings, his vision is blurred, he can feel a small stream of blood slide down his cheek. The screaming is now his own, he feels like he’s never been in so much pain in his entire life. 

He feels like he’s levitating in the air, rising up, then moving forward, slowly. His body feels like it’s on fire, particularly at his feet. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see the source of the stench of burning wood that invades his nostrils. 

But instead, he opens his eyes and sees glass walls, holding back dirt. A fan whirs next to him, a gun lays on his chest. He had a dream like this once...but he died in that dream, was he going to die now?

“No...no no no no no no…” he mutters. 

A hand touches his shoulder, gently shaking his body. The pain in his head fades, the last scream escapes his body.

“Nicky?”

_ Nicky? Who’s Nicky? _

“Nick,” the voice is feminine, soft, but firm. He doesn’t recognize the voice, but there’s something motherly about it, trustworthy.

A different trustworthy voice, another feminine voice, screaming at him in his head, asking him, “What is your name?” over and over again...His name...his name is...

“Nick!” 

Nick sits up, his body shivering from the the cold sweat on his skin. He breathes heavily, observing the surroundings in front of him. He’s laying on a couch, staring directly at a vending machine. His eyes begin to dart all over the room, searching for entry and exit points, out of some instinct he can’t seem to explain. He’s taken aback by the woman who is kneeling next to him, staring at him with wide, worried eyes. He didn’t recognize her voice, but now, he recognizes the face. 

“C-Catherine?” he whispers. She nods, he notices her lips quivering slightly. “Cath, what--where am I?”

“Vegas. You’re in the Vegas Crime Lab,” 

“Vegas? But...but I was in San Diego…” 

Or was he in Los Angeles?

“You transferred back after you heard about Finlay’s...passing.”

“F-Finn? She--?” tears began to sting in his eyes, he rubs his hands over his face. He takes sharp breath of air into his body, and a shake exhale soon leaves. As he composes himself, questions swirl in his head. He feels like he’s missing out on something, the facts in his head are not quite matching up with the picture in front of him.

“Where’s D.B?” he asks. “I thought you were working with the FBI? Where’s Sara?” 

“D.B transferred out, Sara’s out venturing around the world with Grissom, and I’m...well, I’m the crime lab director.”

She gestures to her badge on her chest, and Nick suddenly became aware of his own badge, clipped to his shirt pocket. The title on his badge reads “Night Shift Supervisor.” 

Catherine’s cell phone rings, and she gives Nick a sad smile as he continues to examine the ring on his finger, the wristband on his left hand, and watch on his left.

“Speaking of which, duty calls. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Just as soon as Catherine leaves the room, another man runs in. His hair is flat, unlike the picture in in his head, but it doesn’t make him look any less attractive. His eyes are just as wide in concern as Catherine’s were, looking as if he had seen a ghost. 

“Jesus, man, your head…” the man mutters. Nick tries to hide his surprise as he touches his hand to his head, feeling the fabric of a cloth bandage wrapped around his forehead, almost like a headband. 

“Good to see you too, Greg...Listen, bro, my memory’s a bit hazy...what, uh, what happened?” 

“Car accident. Your first night back, didn’t even clock in and they found you on the side of the road. Paramedics said you were mostly okay, just needed a bit of rest.” 

Nick nods, then chuckles. 

“First night back in Vegas and I’m already causing trouble, huh?” 

His smile is contagious, the concern on Greg’s face turns to shared amusement at the absurd situation. 

“Hey, you want some coffee or something? You still seem a bit tired,”

“Nah, man, I hate that stuff,” Nick mutters, getting up and grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. Greg glares at him, his face furrowed in concentration. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but before he can, he gets a page on his cell phone and leaves the room. 

\-------------------------------------------------

“You sure this is going to work?” the Texan in the passenger’s seat asks for the umpteenth time since they left the Phoenix. Angus Macgyver rolls his eyes, starting to get annoyed with the question that he doesn’t quite have an answer for himself. 

“Listen, man, if you guys really do send him back to Vegas, my friends are going to figure it out in a heartbeat,” the man continues. Macgyver keeps his eyes on the road in front of him. “They’re going to start to ask questions, and if your boy is as messed up in the head right now as he looked to be in that hospital room, he’s not going to be able to answer those questions.”

“He’ll be okay. He’s a highly trained CIA operative, he’s been undercover before,” Macgyver responds shortly. 

“Well, if he’s  _ that  _ good at becoming me, then he’s also going to realize something ain’t right.” 

“You two are more alike than you think,” Macgyver remarks at the familiar doubts lingering in the air between them.

The two sit in silence for the remainder of the ride. When they finally arrive to the safehouse hidden in the mountains, Macgyver finally breaks the silence. 

“There’s no going back now.” He says it out loud, more to himself than to the man standing in front of him, clutching two duffel bags in each hand. He finally looks at the man directly, his heart sinks as he sees the face of his best friend, his partner, but  _ it’s not him _ . The man in front of him doesn’t stand up with his back straightened, there’s a different sort of haunted aura in the lines on his face, his eyes are the same color, but a different light shines behind them. The man seems to be facing his own internal struggle with the situation behind a poker face that Macgyver has only seen on his friend when he is trying not to give into whatever torture is being inflicted on him.

This man is not Jack Dalton, but Macgyver can’t fight the urge as they say their goodbyes to extend out his fist. 

“This will work,” Macgyver sighs, finally answering the question from earlier.

“And if it doesn’t?”

Macgyver meets the man’s eyes once more, before turning away from the man who used to be Nick Stokes, and walking silently back to his car. 


End file.
